


roly-poly

by flailingthroughsanity



Category: Infinite (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Apartments, Fluff, Gen, M/M, Myungsoo's a pervert, and Howon likes it
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-30
Updated: 2015-08-30
Packaged: 2018-04-18 02:43:39
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,026
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4689452
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/flailingthroughsanity/pseuds/flailingthroughsanity
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Maybe it was a good idea for him to look away from the porch—or something, because Myungsoo is pretty sure that ogling your neighbor as he changes isn’t something normal people do. Maybe.</p>
            </blockquote>





	roly-poly

**Author's Note:**

> Nothing substantial. Again. Just wanted to write about these dorks. Rated T for language: Sunggyu and Myungsoo have potty mouths. :3

Myungsoo has always prided himself as being a courteous, respectful person. He’s proud (although not too proud because what would eomma say?) that he did well to hold on to the values taught to him by his parents. He was a nice person, if he could say so about himself. A lot of his co-workers liked him and they genuinely enjoyed his company. His friends always love hanging with him, even if it’s just at his apartment, watching Avatar the Last Airbender for the twentieth time, a bowl of popcorn and cans of soda on the table. He did his work well, his bosses and clients liked him and his parents never failed to tell him that they were proud of their son.

With all those thoughts of appreciation, Myungsoo found it hard to think himself as someone easily strayed to do immoral things. He never drove when he was drunk, he always resisted cheating (even when taking those college entrance exams back in high school) and he always apologized when he knew he had done something wrong.

Safe to say, Myungsoo was a good, good boy.

Or so he thought he was.

∞

He honestly, really didn’t mean it. Then again, intent is nine-tenths of the law, and since no one was holding a gun to his head, Myungsoo realized that maybe he sort of, kind of, meant it. But really, it wasn’t his fault that when he pushed open the draperies of the sliding doors, he’d end up getting an eyeful of gorgeous man-candy.

Honest, it wasn’t really his intention.

∞

A few days ago, the nice family that lived in the apartment across Myungsoo’s moved out. He had stood on the tiny porch by his bedroom and waved as Mr. and Mrs. Lee packed their stuff. The landlord had told him that a new tenant would be taking the apartment and Myungsoo thought nothing of it, watching little Joon-hee run off after his parents, purple dinosaur tucked safely under his arm.

It was little quiet, after that, Myungsoo realized. With the Lee family relocating, Myungsoo started missing the sound of Joon-hee’s laughter that occasionally drifted from the open porch across his, he missed the smell of Mrs. Lee’s cooking and remembered the many times she called for him, passing out bowls of food (“You’re still a growing boy, Myungsoo. I’m sure your mother would like for you to eat real food instead of that packed junk you always buy”) from her end of the porch—the distance between his and theirs were only a few inches, Myungsoo could easily scale it if he wanted to (and Joon-hee had almost baited him, once). He missed Mr. Lee smoking on it, asking Myungsoo about work and what he was up to, if he was eating right, if he was sick—and maybe that’s what Myungsoo missed most: that the Lee family had treated him like he was one of their own. It wasn’t that his own parents were uncaring—they called every night and visited almost every weekend, but it was nice to talk to people who looked at you and didn’t see the four-year old Kim Myungsoo who slipped and nicked his knee and started bawling his eyes out.

So, when Saturday came and the sound of voices and boxes being dragged reached into his apartment, where Myungsoo was lounging on the couch, an open copy of Attack on Titan on his lap, he had to get up and check it out.

Pushing into his bedroom, he pulled the draperies away, letting the sunlight flood in and when Myungsoo looked up, his mouth had fallen open ten feet.

A man—roughly around his height—was taking his sweat-soaked shirt off, revealing tan skin and— _oh my God._

Myungsoo blinked. His eyes followed the trail of sweat as it ran down his muscled form. It wasn’t overly bulky, like how bodybuilders train their muscles. The man was lean, but his form was fuller, his biceps bulging slightly when he tensed and his pectorals looked as firm as his abs.

When the man threw the shirt away, Myungsoo finally managed to shut his mouth and was about to run out and hide when he noticed that the man was reading something on his phone, body turned towards the porch where Myungsoo was getting an impromptu striptease.

Which, if he were to be really honest, he didn’t particularly hate. Not that it made him feel any less of a pervert. Speaking of that, Myungsoo probably should look away but those _abs_ simply turned his mind to mush.

While the man was busy typing on his phone, Myungsoo took the time to take in the way the man’s breathing lightly made his muscles tense, and Myungsoo was pretty sure that he was already half-hard watching those ab muscles clench every two seconds. To make it worse (or better, Myungsoo mused), every time his new neighbour so much as moved, his ab muscles would tense and Myungsoo’s eyes widened further at the way those V like muscles basically pointed down south—which was regrettably still clothed in a pair of tight, black jeans. Okay, so it wasn’t really a losing situation when Myungsoo can also stare at the man’s thighs all day. The way those muscles filled out the pants, the crotch area strained and—

“Holy shit.” Myungsoo whispers, prays, when he realizes the man had put away his phone and started unbuttoning his jeans and what he’s doing suddenly hits some rational part of his brain (bless his brain, it’s not entirely perverted).

He should really look away or pull the curtains back or shout a warning to the guy that he was technically about to get a public-indecency lawsuit if he continued to undress with the porch doors open (again, not like Myungsoo would complain).

Then again, he’s also pretty sure that maybe it was a good idea for him to look away from the porch—or something, because Myungsoo is pretty sure that ogling your neighbor as he changes isn’t something normal people do. Maybe.

But all rational—and by all, even that part of Myungsoo that’s always been respectful of other people’s privacy—thought flew out of his brain and into the trashbin the moment Myungsoo’s neighbour finished unbuttoning his pants and started pulling them down and—

 _I likey, likey this_. Myungsoo thinks, not even a bit ashamed that his mind was nesting in the gutter.

Dear God, those were some _tight_ boxers and Myungsoo feels his face heating up. The black boxers definitely did not leave much to the imagination, and Myungsoo feels himself sweating when he sees those thigh muscles in action as his neighbour manages to pull one leg out of his jeans and, oh my God, those boxers should really be illegal because Myungsoo is about to get a heart attack in the next second if no one stops the man from stripping.

(Somewhere in his perverted thoughts, Myungsoo sends up a prayer, thanking whatever god is out there for kicking the Lee family out).

Myungsoo’s quite confident that he’s already way past half-hard now as he eyes the man in all his glory—well, not exactly, he still has his boxers on but not like that’s such a shame—and he finally concludes that his new neighbour is hot as a mother. His eyes take in the way he fills out his boxers (Myungsoo can already imagine his mother’s horrified voice on what he’s doing, his brother laughing in the background), up to tan skin, those dark nipples and the man’s cocky smirk, white teeth and Myungsoo feels faint when he glimpses a red tongue trace canines that are a little too sharp and he sees the smirk grow wider as Myungsoo makes eye-contact with his neighbour.

∞

When he thinks about it later, he realizes that it was pretty stupid of him to jump backwards, trip on his own goddamn slippers and bang his head against the door when he could have just pulled the curtains back and save himself some grief (and pain) as the man’s laughter echo in his bedroom.

“Eomma~” Myungsoo groans quietly, gently rubbing the bump on the back of his head. His fingers pulled away, just wet with sweat, and he guesses that blunt trauma was the silver lining in this ridiculous situation ( ~~which he got himself into, his brain pitches in~~ ).

He spends a moment sitting on the floor, rubbing on the bump to ease the pain when he hears his neighbour speak.

“Hey, you alright there?” Even the man’s voice was gorgeous. Myungsoo closes his eyes and feels like bumping his head on the door again. “Buddy?”

“’m okay.” Myungsoo manages to grit out as he stands back up. When he’s managed to regain his balance—and not injure himself again—he contemplates what to do next. He could either go with option one, which was to act his age (Twenty-three) and apologize to the man for basically eye-raping him or option two, which was to act like his usual self and hide in the bathroom for the next fourteen years.

He was saved the indecision when his neighbour called out again. “I’m Howon, just so you know. You sure you’re okay?”

That somewhat rational part of him, the one that his mother and father spent years raising, prodded at him to get off his ass (which he already did), man up (which he was still about to do) and not be a jerk and just go talk to the guy (which he had no plans of doing anytime soon).

“Yeah, I’m fine. No need to worry. Just a bump and all.” _You coward_ , his brain snarks.

“If you say so, but I’d sleep easier if I can take a look at it. I’m not a doctor or anything, but I can check it out.” Howon’s voice had started sounding concerned and Myungsoo wasn’t gonna lie. He’s always had a weakness for drop-dead gorgeous men with deep voices that sound like they could take _good_ care of you, in many ways.

Realizing that he could spend his entire day telling the man he’s fine and Howon still won’t budge, Myungsoo decided to be smart for once and ambled his way towards the porch. He kept his gaze down, not wanting to look at the man when he was still…relatively naked.

When he got to the porch, Howon was standing by the edge of his end and Myungsoo realized he had put some clothes on. He raised his head and managed to maintain eye-contact as Howon grinned at him.

“Where’d you hit your head?” He asked, hands gripping the railings. Myungsoo blinked at the veins bulging from his forearm to his wrist. _Guh_.

“Uh…here,” Myungsoo turned his head, prying his eyes away from Howon’s nice arms, and raised his hand, feeling the spot. It didn’t hurt that much anymore, but there was still some swelling and an annoying throbbing.

He stills when he feels Howon’s hand on his head, fingers lightly tracing the bump. When his fingers did a circular motion, Myungsoo had to physically restrain himself from arching his back as delicious shivers ran down his spine.

This was ridiculous (please, do it again, his perverted thoughts moaned).

“It’s not as bad as I thought. Just put some ice on it, to keep the swelling down. If I were you, though, I’d have it checked by a doctor.” Howon says, pulling his hand away (Myungsoo misses it already) and folding it across his really, really  _nice_ chest.

Myungsoo faced him and suddenly, it was quiet between them. Howon was still grinning and Myungsoo could see his canines peeking out from the sides and— _not now, Myungsoo._

“So…” Howon started, still grinning. “who do I owe the pleasure of accidentally causing a head injury?”

Myungsoo blinked, until the words sunk in, and he feels all the blood rush into his face—it was practically steaming. Howon started to chuckle, and Myungsoo felt like jumping to his death.

Granted, he lived on the second floor and all he’d get were fractures and muscle pain but still — it was the thought that count.

Noticing that Howon was still waiting for him to answer, Myungsoo managed to stammer out his name, adding that to the growing pile of embarrassing things he’s organized in his head into a folder labeled “Do not open ever”.

“So, I guess I’ll see you around, huh?” Howon said, turning away and Myungsoo, sort of, managed a goodbye.

If by goodbye, you mean a drawn-out “Uh…” and a hand stiff in the air.

∞

When Myungsoo finishes telling Sungjong what happened, it was all he could do not to throw his phone at the kid as Sungjong practically laughed his head off. Some of the patrons in the café were starting to give them dark looks, and Myungsoo felt like disappearing into his seat as Sungjong continued to cackle.

Times like this, Myungsoo hypothesizes that Sungjong was probably Satan in a past life.

When Sungjong manages to calm down, he grabs his smoothie, sips at it for a bit before putting it away. He then looks up at Myungsoo — and starts laughing again.

 _Cross that thought, he IS Satan._ Myungsoo frowns. It wasn’t _that_ funny, when you think about it. He’s surprised that Howon didn’t just up and punch him for the blatant eye-raping he did. Granted, Howon did deserve that - if he didn't want to be ogled, then he shouldn't have changed with the porch door open so the whole world can see his mouth-watering abs.

“Oh, hyung. It’s like watching a romcom.” Sungjong says, in that airy way he does where he still manages to insult you while looking as innocent as a kitten.

“It wasn’t really funny, okay. I’m surprised he didn’t report me.” Myungsoo mutters, hand under his chin as he frowns darkly at the wall. It wasn't really his fault. It was Howon's fault, actually. Stupid Howon with his stupid smile and stupid abs and stupid thighs and—

“Pervert.” Sungjong drawls. Myungsoo blinks.

“What?”

Sungjong rolls his eyes. “Stop that, you pervert. I will not be an accessory to what you’ve done.”

He feels his eyebrows rise. “I wasn’t thinking about him!”

Sungjong grins. “I didn’t say it was him. Pervert.”

Myungsoo gawks, before folding his arms and muttering to himself about ungrateful dongsaengs, annoyingly gorgeous neighbours and his rotten luck.

∞

They spent the entire afternoon in the café, flitting from topic to topic, and when Woohyun, his classmate back when he was still in university, dropped by, Sungjong told him everything before Myungsoo could stop him. By the time the two of them had stopped laughing, Woohyun teasing him from time to time (“I wasn’t pouting, hyung!”), Myungsoo was sure his cheeks had gone red so much that it might as well be permanent.

When Sungjong had left, Myungsoo and Woohyun had gone to a small make-shift food stall near the café, not too far from his apartment. To make up for the blatant teasing he did, Woohyun offered to buy him fish cakes, at which Myungsoo jumped at.

“Thanks, hyung.” Myungsoo grinned, his chin on the older man’s shoulder. Woohyun rolled his eyes, pretending to shake Myungsoo off.

“I didn’t offer, you bullied me into it.” Woohyun responded.

Myungsoo stuck his tongue out at him like the mature twenty-three year-old professional photographer he was before biting into his skewered fish cake.

With bellies full, Myungsoo and Woohyun walked their way to his apartment. They chatted about old classmates and friends, reaching the building in a matter of minutes. Waving goodbye to Woohyun, Myungsoo turned to enter the lobby when Woohyun suddenly shouts.

“Send me a picture!”

Myungsoo, with cheeks red, swiftly greets the receptionist before basically running into the elevator, Woohyun’s laughter following him.

By the time he gets to his apartment, he’s mostly “de-redified” but he still pulls out his phone, types in “Fuck you” and sends it to Woohyun. All he gets in response is a thumbs-up emoji with the phrase “Sure, tell me where and when, babe”.

Myungsoo feels like pulling his hair out, cursing his idiot friends.

“Rough night?” He jumps (and did not shriek like a girl) at Howon’s voice, turning to find the man on his porch, arms on the railing, a beer bottle in one hand. He laughs a bit at Myungsoo’s less than masculine reaction and Myungsoo would normally feel annoyed and a tad bit insulted if it weren’t for the fact that Howon. Was. Shirtless.

Mother. Freaking. Daddy.

The lights in Howon’s bedroom were dim, painting shadows across his frame but even in the semi-darkness, Myungsoo can still see the smooth, strong planes of Howon’s chest, see the light basically trace each ab, down to the seam of his shorts—and goodness, were they _low_.

Not that Myungsoo had a problem with that. None at all. No sirreee.  

“Like what you see?” It was only then did Myungsoo realize that he had been openly gaping at Howon for the past, what, two minutes? When his neighbour’s words had sunk in, he feels himself flustering again and his mouth opens and closes, itching for a retort—any retort—when all Howon did was leave him speechless.

“I—What—No, I—Ugh—“

Howon smiles, but this time, it wasn’t as teasing as his grin. “Calm down, I was just joking.”

Myungsoo breathes in, nodding to himself. Okay, everything was okay, Howon was just kiddi—

“I mean, I like what I’m seeing, too.”

Myungsoo bites his own tongue.

∞

Three months later, Myungsoo watches as Howon’s friend, Sunggyu, complains while picking up the boxes in his neighbour’s bedroom. Parts of his words reach across the open doors and Myungsoo grins when he hears them.

“…just gonna move in with your boyfriend, why do you need my fucking help…Howon, where the hell are you?!”

Myungsoo turns as Howon chuckles, lounging on Myungsoo—no, their—bed. He looks up at Myungsoo, winks and the only thought crossing Myungsoo’s mind is that he was sure damn lucky he watched his neighbour strip that day.

**Author's Note:**

> Cookies to anyone who got the Wicked reference (and also the T-ARA one)! XD


End file.
